A timely intervention by Thorton and Hughes'
by Pillow Bosom
Summary: It was his job, after all, to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy at all relevant occasions… a job that Harry had initially taken out of stubbornness but had grown over the years to genuinely enjoy. Even if it was self-inflicted torture. 1-shot


_Harry Potter_  
_is cordially invited to attend the_  
_eight-year anniversary celebrations of_  
_The Battle of Hogwarts._

_Hogwarts Castle_  
_12am, May 2_

Some part of Harry hated these things. Sure, he liked the _party _part of it – seeing his old friends, drinking and eating and dancing and stuff – but he hated that he was such a… _fixture_. Was fixture the right word? Probably not. What word was appropriate for being so prominently featured at these things? Being asked to repeat the same painful stories over and over, having his picture taken a thousand times, being pulled out of enjoyable conversations to talk to someone he just _had _to meet… those bits were no fun. And it wasn't like he could refuse. He was technically working. Part of the responsibilities of being an auror, though he did notice Ron wasn't hassled anywhere near as much as he was.

He knew he was being petty and selfish. What did a couple of parties matter, really? When he thought about the alternative – a world where Voldemort had won – not being able to let loose and really have fun at events wasn't a big deal. It was just annoying… and besides – he thought as his eyes scanned the dance floor, letting the conversation of the friends around him wash over him as watched the throng of drunken party-goers writhe to whatever band was playing – there was always one thing he especially looked forward to at Ministry events…

Harry found him easily, just as he was supposed to. A blond head bowed slightly, in earnest conversation with a witch that Harry recognised from the ministry. Beth… someone. He filed that information away, it was his job, after all, to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy at all relevant occasions… a job that Harry had initially taken out of stubbornness but had grown over the years to genuinely enjoy. Even if it was self-inflicted torture.

Draco Malfoy, Harry's childhood nemesis, once a Death Eater and pure-blood bigot, was now the cause of the butterflies in Harry's stomach. He made Harry's palms sweat, gave him sleepless nights and the most amazing dreams. Draco Malfoy would be front and centre in Harry's fantasies the next time he jerked off, and not just because he normally was, but also because he looked absolutely devastating in that tux. He looked good in everything, really… he just looked good… but it was more than that. Draco Malfoy was funny. He made Harry laugh in a way that not even George could do, and he was kind, though he hid it behind his acerbic wit. He took the time to talk to anyone who wanted to, spoke to everyone like they were the most important person in the room. He didn't prioritise anyone based on their social status or wealth or anything, which was more than most people could say, and was so far removed from the Draco Harry had grown up with that it was hard to believe they were the same person.

In short, Harry Potter was in love with Draco Malfoy, and had been for years.

It had started out as an auror assignment. All new recruits had been partnered with an at-risk individual for high-profile events… a Ministry funded bodyguard, really. Ron had been given Luna, Harry had been given Draco. He'd seethed, furious that he was so obviously being tested like that. But Draco had slowly – though not as slowly as everyone else expected – won Harry over. Now, years later, with Draco still being considered at-risk and Harry still accompanying him to a myriad of functions every year, Harry wouldn't want it any other way.

No, that was a lie, Harry wanted it another way. He wanted to stay in Draco's rooms after escorting him home. He wanted to be able to have his hand on Draco's waist as they chatted their way around the room. He wanted to dance with Draco on the crowded dance floor, their bodies close, his lips pressed against Draco's neck-

A jostling as his elbow jolted him out of his daydreaming. A good thing, too. He'd had public hard-ons before over Draco, and they did nothing but cause him anxiety.

"I got your drink, Harry…" Neville had a smoking, purple glass in each hand, he looked at them for a second, frowning, before holding out the one in his right.

Harry grinned as he took it, throwing his arm around Neville's shoulders. "Thanks, Nev." He smiled. "Should I ask what's in it?"

Neville shrugged, his cheeks pink. "Ginny ordered this round, so, uh, probably not."

Harry chuckled, sipping tentatively at the dangerous looking concoction. It wasn't awful. Sweeter than he liked his alcohol to be, but it had an almost limey tang to it. He took a gulp. "Drink up," he tugged at Neville, who was still looking warily at his glass. "it's not bad."

He turned his attention back to his friends, grateful for a few uninterrupted minutes with them. George was telling a heavily pregnant Hermione a long, involved story about trying to source fermented dungle-root for his latest invention. Ron was arguing with Seamus and Ginny about the Chudley Cannons line-up, and Luna was humming happily to herself, a small smile on her lips. Harry sighed contentedly. It was a good night, despite the politicking and the awkwardness of unrequited love. His arm still round Neville's shoulder, he leaned more heavily into his friend, that sweet purple drink warming his stomach. It _was _a good night. He kind of loved this, being with his friends, all of these people he cared so much about… and even though he wasn't _with _him, he liked being with Draco, too. Enjoyed his company, in spite of the heartache. At the thought of Draco, his stomach warmed further, a delicious soft heat that spread through his whole belly.

Where was Draco, anyway? His eyes scanned the crowd, momentarily pausing on a head of white-blond hair… nope, that was Xenophilius… oh, there he was, Beth nowhere to be seen, but now talking to Stephen Grail, one of Harry's auror colleagues. Harry took another long gulp of his drink, watching Draco's face as he laughed at something Stephen had said. He had a beautiful smile, something he'd never really seen while they were at school. It looked like Draco was having a good night too, his cheeks pink and his eyes sparkling. That warmth in Harry's belly deepened. _Merlin_, Draco was gorgeous.

He downed the last of his drink and slid his arm from Neville's shoulders, stalking off without a word. They were all used to him being pulled in a million different directions, he'd stopped apologising every time he had to leave years ago. Not that he had to leave them right now, not really, he just… needed to. He just needed to be closer to Draco. It wasn't so strange – he reasoned as he crossed the Great Hall, smiling and waving when people called his name, desperately trying not to get caught in some mundane conversation with political climbers – he always checked in on Draco during these things, that was his job. He probably didn't need to do it _right now_, especially not when Grail was with him, but… but he just looked so damn beautiful…

"Potter!" Grail boomed, slapping him on the back in that team-mate kind of way he had. "We were just talking about you!".

Great. Harry barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Good things, I hope?" trite answer, but he couldn't think of anything better, not with that heat in his stomach rising. Not with Draco standing just a foot away from him, an amused, but slightly sympathetic smile on his face. He knew how much Harry disliked being talked about.

Grail laughed. "When are you going to join the department quidditch team, Potter?"

"Oh god, not _this _again." Harry groaned.

"Quite." Draco drawled, his shoulder bumping up against Harry's in what had become their small acknowledgement of each other over the years. "I was just trying to tell Stephen that your quidditch reputation, like most of your reputation really, has been inflated by schoolyard myth, rather than being based in reality."

Harry stifled a laugh at Grails shocked expression. "Uh, come now, Malfoy. That's a bit uncharitable." The older man fumbled.

"Oh, I'm sure Harry's had his fill of charity." Draco tilted his head, smiling. "I'm not saying he's awful, he's a passable seeker. But he's not the prodigy he's been made out to be."

"He was the youngest house team player in a century!" Grails spluttered, outraged on Harry's behalf, while Harry chewed his lip to stop from laughing.

"Slim pickings." Draco shrugged his narrow shoulders, that benign smile still on his face. "Being the best of a bad bunch doesn't make him a genius." He turned to face Harry, letting the corner of his mouth tic up. "No offence."

Harry smiled back, his heart absolutely melting. "None taken." He pulled his gaze from Draco's, back to where Stephen was staring at them, red-faced. "What can I say? He's not wrong."

"I…" Grails didn't seem to know what to do with them. "I need another drink, excuse me."

They waited until Grails was out of earshot before they started laughing. "Merlin, you're terrible." Harry wheezed.

"You're welcome." Draco grinned back. His grey eyes on Harry's face like he was the best thing in the room. How could Harry _not _love him, when he looked at him like that? "Any other compliments you want to give me?"

That was the cue for Harry to make some kind of joke, probably about Draco's inferior seeker skills. That was how they did things. They weren't _nice_ to each other, any kind of affection they showed each other was in the form of joking insults and arms-length teasing. But that _warmth _was bubbling away in Harry's stomach, fizzing, now that they were so close, and alone… or as alone as the situation allowed. He didn't want to tease Draco, or maybe he did. He wanted to make him laugh, and blush. He wanted Draco to be flustered, the way Harry felt when they were together… "You look amazing in that suit."

That earned him a strange sideways look. Draco sniffed. "Well, I _am_ a Malfoy." He brushed at one lapel. "I was practically _born _in dress robes."

To anyone else, that would have sounded haughty, but Harry knew Draco well enough to know he was being self-deprecating. Getting in a spoilt-little-rich-boy joke before anyone else could do it first. Harry shook his head, reached out to grab Draco's elbow. "No." He breathed, that warmth pressing hard up against his sternum, making him feel almost sick with nerves. "I'm not teasing. I've been watching you all night. You look amazing. You always look amazing." What was he saying? And _why _was he saying it? "You're so fit, and so funny, and so smart. You're driving me up the wall. I can't stop thinking about you, I want you so mu- uh… much."

Harry faltered as Draco's hands came up to his face, grasping his jaw and jerking him forward. This was it! He stared as Draco leaned down, a small frown between his eyebrows. Not the most promising expression on the face about to kiss him, but he was getting closer, only inches away. Harry leaned in, his stomach doing somersaults. _Please. _He wanted to beg, his entire body quivering with anticipation.

Draco stopped, _so close_. His hands firm on Harry's face, holding him still. Harry whimpered. "Shhh." Draco hissed, _glaring _now. What was wrong? Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco scowled, jerking back from him like he was poisoned and dropping his hands from Harry's face. "Almond." He muttered, his expression black. "Shit."

"Wh-what?" Harry stared, confused, and hurt. What was going on?

"Come with me." Draco spat, grabbing Harry's wrist and hauling him towards the nearest door. "Now."

Harry followed. He would have followed anyway. He'd follow Draco anywhere if he was asked to. Or, in this case, told to. Were they going somewhere private? Draco hadn't kissed him back in the Great Hall, but maybe if they were alone…

Draco practically dragged Harry through a heavy door, down a corridor, and shoved him against a wall between two coats of armour. The hallway felt weirdly still, after the bustle of the party, with all the portraits out of their frames, joining in the festivities in painted landscapes that had been set up specially for the occasion. But weird didn't mean bad, Harry _wanted _to be alone with Draco. Gasping, his back against cold stone and Draco's body just inches away, he reached out, grasped Draco's hip. "Dra-"

"Don't!" Draco barked, wrenching out of Harry's hands. "Just…" He looked _furious_. "Harry… you've been drugged. Don't do anything you'll regret in the morning."

Drugged? "I- what? I haven't been drugged!" He hadn't, had he? He felt fine, great even!

"So you were _planning_ on trying to jump me in the middle of the Great Hall? In front of the entire Ministry?" He huffed. "Your breath smells of Almonds. You've been slipped a love potion, though I have no idea _why."_

"I _haven't_." Harry protested. "I just love you!"

"Oh Merlin." Draco ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. He fumbled in his pocket, drawing out his wand. "Can I check something?"

Yes. Anything.

Draco stepped back in close, his face stern. "Keep your hands to yourself, OK?"

Harry nodded, clenching his hands into fists and pushing them against the wall.

Draco cast a faint lumos, holding the point of his wand before Harry's face. He stared into Harry's eyes, and while Harry's heart clenched in his chest, Draco looked more frustrated than before.

"Your pupils are completely dilated, Harry, and are sluggish reacting to light." He sighed, noxxing his wand. "I'm going to take your pulse, is that alright?"

Harry nodded again, his mouth open slightly, panting with the effort of holding his hands back. Merlin, he wanted to touch this man.

Long, cool fingers touched his neck, gently searching for the thump of his pulse under his jaw. Harry couldn't help it, he groaned. "Draco." He rasped, closing his eyes and digging his fingernails into his palms, "_Please_."

There was a defeated huff of air as Draco exhaled. "I know, I'm sorry." His voice was soft. "I'll be as quick as I can. Would you rather I take it at your wrist?"

Harry shook his head, he never wanted Draco's fingers to leave his skin. "I want you so bad." He whispered, his voice grating with desire. Somewhere, some part of him realised he was hard. _Very _hard. How long had he been like that for?

"I know." Draco repeated. "It's not fair, is it?" He was gentle now, instead of angry. His voice soothing, crooning. "It won't be long though, we'll fix you an antidote, you'll be fine soon."

Harry groaned as Draco searched for his pulse again. "You're not going to kiss me, are you?"

Another defeated sigh as Harry interrupted his pulse-taking. "No. Sorry."

Harry screwed his eyes shut tighter, his stomach falling. "Can we dance, then, at least?"

"I, uh, dance?"

"Yeah." Harry slumped back against the wall, lifting his chin to let Draco's fingers touch him easier. "Just dance… if that's not too weird? I just… want to be close to you. I've never… been close to you like that. We don't have to do anything, just… I want to hold you…" He opened his eyes a crack, looked into Draco's stricken face. "… have you against me…"

Draco pulled his hand away, his eyes wide. He didn't seem to know what to say for a long second, before he cleared his throat, asking gently, "Is there anyone here you don't trust? Anyone who might want to embarrass you in public?" He grunted when Harry shook his head. "Or anyone you think might _really _want to bed you? For whatever reason?"

Harry shrugged. "Not that I know of."

His grey eyes slid down to the empty glass in Harry's hand. "Is that the last thing you drank?"

Harry looked at the glass in surprise. He'd forgotten he was still holding it. There was still a thin swirl of purple in the bottom, even. "Yeah."

"I have to talk to Slughorn. You stay right here. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded. Feeling… strangely numb.

"I won't be long. Just stay here. I'll be right back." Draco was already walking away, like he couldn't get away from Harry fast enough. Harry listened to the _clop_ of his shoes as he left, the skin under his jaw still tingling where his fingers had been. God he was hard. He hadn't really been drugged, had he? What would be the point? And why now? He didn't feel too out of sorts, just a bit drunk, and turned on… really, really turned on. He pushed his hand under his robe and cupped his palm over his crotch, stifling a groan. He was ridiculously hard. Did he have enough time to quickly _relieve himself_? It would only take a second, and he'd feel much better afterwards. He cocked his head as he started toying with the button on his pants, listening for anyone who might be approaching.

Were those footsteps? He listened harder, his fingers still edging the button loose. Yep, footsteps, but that wasn't Draco, those were high heels.

"_Harry! Are you here?"_

Huh. Weird. That sounded like Hannah Abbott. Hannah Longbottom, really, but even though she'd taken Nev's name when they got married, he still thought of her as Abbott. He shook his head, distracted again. "Yeah, here!" He called back, putting his empty glass on the floor and stepping out from between the armour, but not straying too far… Draco had told him to stay put, after all.

The _click _of heels on stone grew closer. "Harry?"

"Here."

She rounded the corner, her face red. "Oh thank Merlin! Ron said he saw you heading out here. Are you OK?"

Harry blinked. What? "Uh, I think so… yeah?"

She paused, suddenly frowning. "I… you're not, uh, feeling… odd?"

Oh… oh something _had _gone wrong. He narrowed his eyes. "What's happened, Hannah?"

"Oh Harry!" She grimaced. "I'm so sorry! You see, Neville and I are having trouble conceiving, and he's just gotten so _nervous _about it – you know how he is – so we decided to get something to help him out with his, uh, _confidence_, but he accidently gave you _his _drink, which had… well…"

"A love potion in it?" Harry supplied.

Her cheeks were blazing, she could barely meet his eyes. "Not quite. An aphrodisiac. Just something to let him _relax _a little, get him in the mood, you know? We were going to sneak down to the greenhouses…"

So Draco was right, he had been drugged, though there wasn't any malevolent intent behind it. "Do you have an antidote?"

"Oh, yes!" Hannah grappled with her handbag, fossicking around for two small glass vials. One blue, and empty, the other clear, and full of a pale pink liquid. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Nothing… _happened, _did it?"

Harry was uncorking the clear vile with his teeth. "No." He tipped his head back, swallowing the mouthful of liquid. It was warm, yuck. "Only made an arse of myself."

"I'm so sorry…"

"It's OK, honest mistake." Harry sighed. He didn't _feel_ despondent, but he knew he would as soon as the antidote kicked in. "Just, uh… Draco's going to be back any second, and I kind of have to apologise to him… so if you could…"

"Of course, I… _Draco_?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. Draco."

"Yeah."

"How long?"

Ugh, here it was, a slosh of self-loathing as reality started to kick in. Thanks, antidote. "Years."

Hannah pursed her lips. "Ouch. That's rough." She smiled sympathetically and quickly grasped his arm. "Come have a pint next time you want to talk about it. We publicans are good at keeping secrets, and I kinda owe you one."

Harry chuckled despite himself. "Pint's on you, yeah?"

"Of course." And with that, she was off, clicking back down the empty hallway.

Harry made his way back to his patch of wall, and put his back against it, sliding down to sit on the cold flagstones. He held a vial in each hand, twisting them between his fingers. Each had a small paper label on the glass. Harry read the blue vial with growing distaste.

_Having a hard time having a hard time?_

_Thorton and Hughes'_  
_Potent Perky Pecker Potion_  
_will restore your Vim and Vigour!_

_Experience increased desire and decreased inhibitions_  
_with our one-of-a-kind aphrodisiac._

Lord, this stuff must be good to make anyone buy something with such a revolting name. He eyed the clear glass vial.

_Hard times getting you down?_

_Thorton and Hughes'_  
_Boner Banishing Brew_  
_will have you in-law ready in a flash_

_Nullifies the effects of Thorton and Hughes_  
_Potent Perky Pecker Potion_

Who though up the names for this stuff? If it weren't so mortifying, he'd go show them to George, he'd find these hilarious.

Not that Harry felt like laughing. He felt… terrified. What on earth had he _done_? He'd told Draco how he felt, in one of the worst ways imaginable. He'd called him _fit_, for Merlin's sake! He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He'd said… he really had said the L-word, hadn't he? Out loud. To Draco Malfoy. _I just love you_.

Fuck.

He was still sitting with his face in his hands when Draco finally came back. Harry didn't move as he heard his footsteps approaching, he was too humiliated, too scared, and too hurt to even raise his head.

"Harry. There you are. I'm sorry I took so long, Slughorn had left the hall to do some schmoozing, but he's given me the key to the potions room, so we can head down now and make something to make you feel a bit more, comfortable… if you… are you alright?"

Harry swallowed, forcing himself to have the courage to speak, even if he didn't have the courage to look at Draco's face.

"It's OK. I've had the antidote." He held up the hand with the vials in it, felt Draco's fingers take them from his. There was a long, heavy silence as Draco read the awful labels.

"But these aren't…" Draco eventually started, but didn't finish.

"Not a love potion." Harry confirmed, his voice muffled. "Neville and Hannah are trying to get pregnant. I got Neville's drink by mistake."

"Oh." Draco's voice was small. "So… you…"

Harry gritted his teeth, wishing that Draco would just leave him alone to wallow in his misery. "Yes. I do. Now if you don't mind, I'd kind of like a minute to myself."

"Harry, I…"

But Harry couldn't bear to hear any trite platitudes. He pressed the heels of him palms hard into his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his eyelids "_Please."_

Draco left without another word.

That was it – Harry thought glumly as he listened to the departing footsteps, his head still in his hands – Draco knew. Years of careful secret keeping, of carefully gauged jokes and long hours fretting he'd given himself away somehow, had been ruined in the blink of an eye, all thanks to Neville's trademark clumsiness. Draco _knew_. What was he going to do now? Just pretend it hadn't happened? As much as that would suck, it might be the best possible scenario. It would surely be better than Draco requesting a different auror, or – worse – wanting to have an embarrassing, painful _talk _about it. Harry grimaced at the thought of it. He could picture it perfectly, the face Draco put on when he was talking to little old ladies, infinitely patient, it made Harry's guts churn. _I am really very flattered Harry, but I can't see you as more than a friend. I do hope you're not too disappointed._

Disappointed wouldn't begin to cover it. Devastated would be closer. It wasn't like Harry was planning on keeping his feelings secret forever, he'd always had some vague plan of telling Draco someday. He'd imagined doing it a thousand, thousand times. Waiting for a night where a usually platonic touch lasted a moment too long, or their fingers brushed, but neither of them pulled away… he _definitely _hadn't pictured it like this, against his will, almost humiliating them both in front of almost everyone they knew…

Ugh. He bit his lip. How could he show his face in that hall? But he had to. It was his job. Draco might very well have another auror with him at the next event, but for the rest of the night, Harry was still assigned Malfoy, still had to keep an eye on him, escort him home… Merlin.

He dragged himself upright, weary and tired. He checked his watch. He'd only been moping for a half hour or so, maybe his absence hadn't been missed. Steeling his resolve, he dragged himself back to the great hall.

He started scanning the crowd the moment the heavy door shut behind him. _"Harry!"_ Someone called his name, but it wasn't Draco, so Harry pretended he didn't hear it. He just needed to make sure Draco was OK, that nothing had happened while Harry was sulking in a corner. His gaze trailed back and forth until it found Draco, standing in a small knot of people, a wine glass in his hand. His work duty done, Harry sighed, but didn't relax. Nerves thrummed even harder in his stomach at the sight of the man, smiling and talking animatedly, laughing at something someone said, like he was perfectly fine, like his life hadn't just been turned upside down, like Harry wasn't standing across the room with his heart in his throat.

Harry swallowed. He needed to keep it together, just for a few more hours. Then he could go home and lose it, alone.

"Harry!" a voice boomed in his ear, making him jump. The owner of the voice laughed. "Sorry, mate. I called, but you didn't hear me."

Harry forced himself to look normal, to _act _normal. He smiled. "Hey Oliver!"

Oliver Wood. Big, burly Oliver Wood that Harry used to fantasise about in second year. That Oliver Wood was beaming down at Harry with a goofy, drunken smile, that on any other night would have had Harry turning to mush.

"Haven't seen you in forever!" Oliver kept beaming. "How are ya?"

They had, in fact, seen each other just a month or so earlier, but Harry just forced a smile, and small talk. At least Wood was easy to talk to... get him on to quidditch and he could happily natter away for hours...

"Still think it's a shame you n` Gin didn't have a kid or two when you were still together." Oliver sighed ten minutes later. "Seems a waste of good genes, really."

"Jesus, Wood." Harry laughed, jabbing a finger into Oliver's ribs. "Even for you, that's harsh."

He grinned down, shrugging. "Sorry, but you know it's true. Good bloodlines."

Harry was still laughing, incredulous. "We aren't _racehorses! _Besides, now tha-"

"Harry?"

Harry's sentence cut short as that painfully familiar voice said his name. _Ouch_. For a minute, Harry had almost been able to forget that he was mortified, and heartbroken... but now that Draco was standing next to him, his hand on Harry's arm, his heart was back in his throat, making it hard to swallow.

"Hey, Malfoy." Oliver nodded and raised his drink to Draco. Though it was still awkward, Oliver had been one of the people who'd willingly accepted that Draco wasn't the Death Eater monster they'd thought he was.

Draco nodded back. "Wood. Sorry to interrupt, I just..." He looked uncomfortable, which twisted Harry's insides. "It's my pumpkin time." Oh, that was even worse, fake levity. Harry cringed. "If you're... if it's not too much trouble?"

This was going to suck.

He plastered a smile on his face, clapped a hand on Wood's shoulder. "Duty calls. See you later Oliver, we should meet up for a drink sometime."

"We're at the Leaky most Friday nights. You're always welcome! You too, Draco." He added as an afterthought. Oliver and Draco really didn't have the same social circles. Harry appreciated the gesture though.

"Is he always like that?" Draco almost sneered as they pushed through the crowds towards the designated classroom with an open floo.

"Like what?" Harry ask, confused, and _nervous_.

"Jovial."

Why on earth did he sound so bitter? "When he's not playing quidditch, yeah. He's kinda got two modes, _jovial _and batshit competitive."

Draco just humphed, looking pinched, and Harry wanted to cry. He'd expected Draco to act weird, maybe aloof, or patronising, but he hadn't expected him to be _mad_. Shame curled up under his ribs. He followed Malfoy in silence, his own heartbeat roaring in his ears, humiliated and hurt.

"After you." Draco gestured to the fireplace, his face still tense.

Harry just nodded, he knew the drill. After this many years they had a routine.

He stepped out of Malfoy's fireplace in a plume of green flame, immediately casting Homenum Revelio across the rooms. Nothing.

Then with a flick of his wand, dozens of fine red filaments flickered into view. Strung between the walls and furniture, they quivered slightly in the air, but they were all still intact. No one had been through this room.

Another flick, and the fine threads faded into nothing, just as the fire roared behind him.

"All clear?" Draco asked.

"Clear." Harry confirmed, busying himself with putting his wand away, so he wouldn't have to look up.

"Harry-" Draco started, but Harry interrupted.

"It's OK. Don't worry about it." He glanced up, but lowered his eyes again at the exasperated look on Draco's face. He stepped towards the fireplace, wanting to escape... but that took him a step closer to Draco.

"_Harry_." Draco growled, stopping Harry in his tracks. "I didn't drag you away from your cosy little chat with Wood because I'm _tired_. You have to tell me what the _hell _happened tonight... and for Merlin's sake _look at me!"_

Harry flinched, but looked up. What on earth was he supposed to say? Wasn't it _obvious_ what had happened? "Isn't it obvious?"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. "Is it? I thought you'd been doped, the way you were talking... but you say it was just an aphrodisiac, which would mean..." he grimaced, "you actually _meant _what you said... and I thought that... maybe... but then the first person you talk to is _Wood_, and I thought I'd have watch you two flirt all night, _again_... after everything it was just..." he opened his eyes, frowning. "It's not fucking obvious Harry, not to me. Please just _tell me_ what the fuck is going on."

Well. He had to, didn't he? He didn't know what Draco had meant by half of that, but he had to tell him. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the nauseous nerves that were fizzing in his stomach.

"I'm in love with you." His voice was as cracked whisper, his throat dry.

Draco's eyes widened. "No you're not."

Pain blossomed in Harry's chest. He shrugged, already mourning the end of their friendship, wishing Draco would just step aside and let him go home. "Sorry, but I am. Can't help it. I'd stop it if I could, I mean, I've tried to, but it's only gotten worse, over the years."

"Years..." Draco parroted. "Years?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, sorry."

"_Years_..." Draco stepped into the gap between them, reached out to grab the front of Harry's robes. "... I am so fucking angry right now."

Harry baulked. "I know. I'm so-"

But Draco jerked him forward, cutting him off. "We've wasted _years_." He muttered, then kissed him.

Draco _kissed _him. Kissed him like they were in a desert and Harry was water. Kissed him like he was trying to prove something.

He slid his hands up to cradle Harry's face, stroked his thumbs across Harry's jaw, held him still as he kissed him until Harry had to clutch at his jacket to keep his knees from buckling.

He pulled back gently, eyes soft on Harry's face as Harry leaned heavily against him.

"Stay."

It wasn't a question, but Harry answered anyway.

"Yeah..." Of course he'd stay. He'd do anything Draco wanted. Always.


End file.
